Julia Thorne: Parallel Story
by Bella Italia 415
Summary: A neighbor of a very young Harry potter
1. Chapters 1-3

Parallel Story

Chapter 1

Julia Thorne had lived at 7 Privet Drive in Little Whinging since just after her tenth birthday. Her parents had moved, rather hurriedly it seemed, from their home in upstate New York, in the United States, immediately after school let out in mid-June. Julia's father had been born in England and had met Julia's mother on an archeological expedition. They married and "settled" in New York, in a small community called Ephratah. Julia always used air quotes when even thinking the term "settled", because although _she_ was settled, her parents never settled anywhere. They were no more "settled" in Little Whinging than they had been in Ephratah. They were always off on another expedition, leaving Julia in the care of a competent and loving housekeeper, but a housekeeper nonetheless. The month they spent in Little Whinging, immediately upon moving there, was one of the longest stretches Julia could recall in which they'd been home. David and Angela Thorne were not cruel people, they were simply very wrapped up in their work and in each other, and had never quite gotten over the shock of finding themselves parents. Indeed, every time they'd returned to Ephratah, they appeared surprised at the young girl who greeted them at the door. It was a pleasant surprise, to be sure. For her part, Julia regarded Mrs. Compton, the housekeeper and guardian, as a parent figure. Mrs. Compton signed school permission slips and arranged sleep overs with friends. David and Angela were like an indulgent aunt and uncle who visited periodically. Still, Julia often wished her parents were more like the parents of her friends.

Despite her unusual home life, Julia was a happy child overall; she had, by nature, a sunny disposition and an optimistic outlook on life. She was small for her age, with black hair and very dark blue eyes. She overheard an acquaintance tell Mrs. Compton that "the child got the best features of both parents." She considered herself fairly average: she liked to play with Barbie and baby dolls, as did her friends; indeed, the only things that might be considered unusual was her love of reading and the fact that she often "knew" things. Even as a small girl, she knew when someone around her was troubled, even if they took great pains to hide their turmoil. Someone once remarked to her parents that they were to be credited for raising such a wonderfully empathetic child. David and Angela had only looked at each other knowingly. Julia was also very good at finding lost things. Mrs. Compton had misplaced the remote for the television, and was momentarily caught off guard when four year old Julia handed her the device from where it had fallen, even though Mrs. Compton had never actually _stated_ what she was looking for. By the time Julia was ten, Mrs. Compton was no longer surprised by any unusual events or insights that originated with her charge.

Julia discovered early on that there were things she didn't need to know, and even more that she didn't _want_ to know. It was increasingly difficult to act surprised over Christmas and birthday gifts and by the time she was five, Julia was devising methods to keep unwanted insights out. She began mentally constructing walls of cinder block in her mind after hearing her kindergarten teacher remark to a colleague that a certain little boy had a head like the cinder block walls of the classroom and said: "There's nothing getting through _that_." Julia understood enough to know that cinder block was a good material to use if one wanted to keep things in, or out (much later she understood that the remark was also particularly unkind). If she concentrated hard enough, this was a very effective method of minding her own business. Stray thoughts sometimes made their way through, but all Julia had to do was picture the brightly painted cinder block walls of her kindergarten classroom to push them back out. It took her a bit longer to realize however, that her special insight wasn't a trait shared by her friends. In that respect, she knew she was definitely _not_ average. She learned very quickly to keep her thoughts to herself, lest her friends consider her weird.

The summer before her tenth birthday Julia overhead her parents, really overheard them; they were having a conversation that Julia was certain concerned her, however didn't make much sense. "What is Ilvermorny?" she wondered. Part of the conversation centered around Julia being sent to that place, wherever it was. Or _whatever_ it was. It was awkward because she couldn't very well admit that she'd been eavesdropping, but she was dying to know what it was all about. Her parents left for an expedition soon after and Julia spent a lot of time trying to devise a scheme to figure out what the conversation had been about, once her parents returned. She tried Mrs. Compton out by casually mentioning _Ilvermorny_ one morning during breakfast, however Mrs. C. had looked convincingly blank. David and Angela returned a week before Christmas and between shopping, decorating and school concerts, all thoughts of the mysterious place – for Julia was convinced that Ilvermorny was a place, not a who – were forgotten. Her parents were preoccupied as well, and more than once Julia caught them looking over their shoulder, as if they thought they might be followed. Julia caught a fleeting thought of her mother's that involved a mental picture of packing boxes, and the next thing she knew, they were on an airplane, flying to the place of her father's birth: England. Julia had overheard her father saying something about "communities better equipped to deal with us", and "blending in". Julia's father was of average height and weight, with reddish brown hair and blue eyes, her mother was also average sized, although Julia considered her quite beautiful, with dark, almost black hair, and blue eyes. Julia had never considered that parents were in any way unusual, other than their eccentric lifestyle. The idea that they weren't able to blend in where they were was something Julia simply couldn't understand. "Maybe England likes archeologists better?" she mused wonderingly. Once the decision was made to go to England however, David and Angela relaxed, and sensing that, Julia relaxed as well. She pumped her father for information about his homeland and learned that they drove on the opposite side of the road, and since she was partial to pastries, she would probably enjoy a dessert known as a treacle tart. They moved into Number 7 Privet Drive, a neat little house set among neat little houses, all with tidy gardens. Mrs. Compton, sadly did not make the move with the Thornes, and that was the one great sadness that Julia was forced to live with. Mrs. C. simply could not go off to a new country; she had no husband or children, however she had a sister who would miss her too badly. So, for a month after the move, David and Angela found themselves interviewing for a housekeeper/guardian for Julia. The search didn't seem to be going very well as none of the women were exactly what the Thornes required. A few of them Julia rejected personally; it did not occur to her that this was an unusual accommodation for parents to make for a child. If she had made any new friends, they would not have hesitated to tell her how odd that was, parents listening to a child's opinion. However, as David and Angela had always allowed Julia this latitude, she didn't consider it in the least bit unusual. She would not understand for a while exactly _why_ her parents had always trusted her opinions.

One day Angela was explaining their need to a neighbor who had come to visit, bringing a fruit cake as a welcome gift. Mrs. Figg actually lived two streets away, on Wisteria Walk, and Julia thought it odd that she'd somehow heard there were new neighbors from two blocks away. As if sensing suspicion, Mrs. Figg mentioned that she was acquainted with the Dursleys across the street, and Mrs. Dursley had mentioned that a new family had moved in. Julia suspected there might still be more to the story, however she knew that Mrs. Dursley was very nosy, she had observed their neighbor more than once peeking from behind the drapes in her living room. However, sensing no threat from Mrs. Figg, Julia relaxed, especially when Mrs. Figg offered to introduce her to her cats. Like most children, she liked animals and Mrs. Figg had a multitude of cats coming and going. Mrs. Figg mentioned to David and Angela that she had a friend who had acted as a housekeeper and Nanny to a family before the children all went off to boarding school. As the youngest was close to finishing his first year at said school (Julia sensed very strongly that Mrs. Figg was very deliberately not mentioning the name of the school), and as her friend had enjoyed as much leisure time as she cared to, she was ready to find another post. Would Mr. & Mrs. Thorne be interested in meeting with her friend, Mrs. Delia Grigsby? Indeed they would, David and Angela agreed eagerly.

The following Saturday, the day Mrs. Grigsby was coming to meet the Thornes, Julia was outside with a jump rope. She had given up any pretense of actually using it however, and was instead watching the two little Dursley boys across the street. She had seen them briefly on one or two other occasions, and she thought now, as she had then, how very strange is was that two brothers could look so different. The older one, whom Julia guessed to be about six, was as round as he was tall, blond and mean. His little brother, in contract, was short, with dark hair that never looked as if it had been combed. As if to accent his small frame, his clothes always looked as if they were three sizes too big. The jeans were cuffed and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

This morning, the older boy was showing off a new red tricycle. Soon however, he grew bored and abandoned the toy to go pull the blooms off the flowers in his mother's garden. After glancing quickly to ensure that his brother was fully occupied in the destruction of his mother's garden, the smaller boy climbed onto the tricycle and began to pedal slowly. He had gone about six feet along the sidewalk when the blond boy roared "Get off!" He went charging along the sidewalk toward his brother and the tricycle at approximately the same time Julia dropped the jump rope and ran across the street. She knew exactly what Blondie had in mind and Harry ("that's his name," she thought without any trace of wonder, "his name is Harry and …Dudley is going to murder him."), poor little Harry would not be able to defend himself. Three things happened very quickly: Dudley (she was as sure of his name as she had been of Harry's) roared again and reached for Harry, she reached her arm between them and felt something like a mild electric shock, and then Dudley fell backward as if a large, invisible hand had shoved him. The fine hairs on Julia's arm were standing straight up, and although she was usually pretty quick to assess any situation, she was confused. She looked at Harry, who looked frightened. Before anyone could say anything, the front door of the Dursley house opened and Mrs. Dursley came running out, screaming "Diddykins what happened? Are you hurt?" Diddykins, er, _Dudley_ howled as if on cue. Mrs. Dursley glared at Harry and through clenched teeth demanded "What did you do to him?" At this, Julia felt as if a fog had lifted from her brain. "He didn't do anything Mrs. Dursley, I saw the whole thing and he…" she paused. How could she possibly explain what had happened? "I think Dudley must have tripped, honestly, Harry didn't touch him," she finished, somewhat lamely. "My friends fight with their brothers and sisters all the time," she offered helpfully. "They are **not** brothers," Mrs. Dursley told her, teeth clenched once more, "they are cousins." She helped Dudley to his feet and with promises of ice cream, led him into the house, leaving Harry, and a somewhat bemused Julia, on the front sidewalk. She turned at looked at Harry. He had the look of a child who was uncared for: his hair was untidy, his clothes were not only too big but were clearly worn and he looked as if he could use a bath and a good meal. Still, he met Julia's gaze steadily, with the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, and he smiled at her. "How old are you Harry?" she asked softly. If he was surprised that she knew his name, he didn't let on. "Almost four," he replied, "Dudley just turned four so I'll be four next." Julia was on the verge of asking if there would be a party, but something about Harry made her sad. She knew, without asking, that there would be no party and that little Harry would be lucky to get a gift. Just then, a small red car turned into the Thornes drive and she remembered why she had come out in the first place: to wait for Mrs. Grigsby, to get a first look at her. She turned back to Harry: "I have to go," she said, "we've got company." Looking hard at Harry she thought: "I'll be your friend." He gazed at her steadily, then nodded and turned away, back to the tricycle. She watched him for another minute, then turned to her house, where a petite blond woman was emerging from the red car, with a tote bag nearly as large as she was. She looked across the street at Harry first, and Julia had a strong sensation that she knew him. "No," she thought, "she knows _about_ him, she doesn't know him personally." The woman looked from Harry to Julia, who was crossing the street to meet her. She smiled and Julia smiled back. "This is the one," she whispered, with a pang of sadness because it would mean that her parents would settle the new housekeeper in and then they'd be off on another expedition. Still, Julia felt nothing but warmth from Mrs. Grigsby. Once inside, after welcoming the applicant, Julia's parents looked at her quickly. She nodded and for good measure, gave a thumbs up. David and Angela smiled and nodded their understanding. After that, all that was left were the formalities.

 **Chapter 2**

David and Angela stayed another ten days before leaving for their dig. Angela was especially excited: she specialized in archeoastronomy and workers at the dig site reported that they had uncovered a series of stone formations that might indicate a special alignment with the stars. Still, they made sure that Julia was enrolled in the local primary school and that all the legal papers were signed for, and with, Mrs. Grigsby. These would allow her to act, in their absence, on Julia's behalf. Accounts at local shops and the bank were established and affairs were generally put in order. Before the end of July, Angela and Delia Grigsby stood in the driveway and watched as a taxi took David and Angela to the airport.

Once the taxi was out of sight, Mrs. Grigsby put her arm around Julia's shoulders and said "Why don't we go down to the shop and buy some groceries?" Julia welcomed the diversion. On the walk to the store, Mrs. Grigsby chattered about the last family she had been with before the youngest ("Daniel," Julia thought absent mindedly) went off to boarding school. Without thinking, Julia asked "What year is Daniel in now Mrs. Grigsby?" She caught the mistake almost immediately – Mrs. Grigsby had never actually said the name of her former charge out loud – but it was too late, she couldn't take it back. Mrs. Grigsby didn't seem to notice however, and replied: "He will be starting second term in about four weeks." Julia didn't see the satisfied smile on Delia Grigsby's face since she turned her head slightly, as if watching for traffic. Julia wasn't aware that she had passed some sort of test.

At the market, Julia helped Mrs. Grigsby select items for dinner. As they neared the check out line, they passed a small display of toys. Mrs. Grigsby paused near plastic packets of small toy soldiers. The packet contained a dozen of the tiny men, posed in various combat positions. Mrs. Grigsby selected a packet and placed it in her basket; looking at Julia she smiled and said: "You never know who's having a birthday, it's always nice to keep something handy." Julia stared at her: it was very apparent to her that there was something Mrs. Grigsby wasn't saying. She tried to probe her guardian's mind, however was met with an image of a smooth blank wall. She stared at the woman in amazement: that wall was very much like her own cinder block wall. But surely…Mrs. Grigsby turned to Julia and smiled. Although she never said a word, Julia heard, quite clearly: "Home." She nodded, still too surprised to speak. Someone else was like her? Wow! Julia was excited and impatient during the walk home, and if she were being totally honest, she was a little nervous too. At home, Julia was so curious and so surprised, she didn't know where to begin. Finally Mrs. Grigsby said: "You thought you were the only one?" Julia nodded. "No child," Mrs. Grigsby replied, "your gift is unusual, but you're not alone. I must say though, it's exceptionally strong for one so young and untrained. And your method of blocking intruders is quite effective." She laughed quietly. Julia finally found her tongue. "How did you know?" she asked. Mrs. Grigsby was thoughtful, and Julia instinctively knew better than to either hurry her or poke around for the answer. After a few seconds, Mrs. Grigsby said: "You must understand that what you and I speak about is not to be repeated to anyone except your parents. I will never ask you to keep anything important from your parents, however you can't speak of this to anyone else unless I've given permission. Is that understood?" Julia nodded and another sudden burst of understanding came to her: _this_ was why they'd had to move, whatever _this_ was, it was directly linked to their sudden move. Delia Grigsby nodded; "Yes Julia," she replied in answer to the unspoken question, "your parents had come to the attention of people who don't understand and aren't fond of people like us. They decided to come back to England where it's a bit easier to get along. England has been dealing with us for so much longer." And she chuckled again. "People like us?" Julia whispered.

Julia sat at the kitchen table in a state of bewilderment and excitement so intense she thought she might throw up. Her thoughts were whirling and incoherent, nothing was making sense. She had learned to keep her abilities a secret, only to learn that there were, apparently, others just like her. Finally Delia sat down and said softly: "Julia Thorne, I have every reason to believe, and your parents agree, that you are magical. Your mum is a witch and your dad is a wizard. And I'm a witch." She sat watching Julia closely. Julia wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that, and yet somehow, it didn't come as quite the shock it might have. She was an intelligent and well read child and suddenly, as if she had finally found the last two pieces of a thousand piece puzzle, everything _fit_. Everything. The way she knew things, the way she could almost read someone's mind, the way she knew the little boy's names from across the street…the boys… She looked at her guardian closely. "Harry is having a birthday sometime soon, I remember him saying that…Mrs. Grigsby, what exactly happened that day on the sidewalk with Harry and Dudley? Was that…me?" Mrs. Grigsby sighed and said "I didn't see it Julia, I arrived immediately after. I knew something had happened but I didn't see the incident at all. Can you tell me what happened?" So Julia told her the story, about the electric current and Dudley landing on his fat bottom although no one had touched him. Delia thought a moment and then said: "Remember, confidential," and without waiting for Julia to nod she continued: "that's Harry Potter. You won't know, although I know that your father does, but that's a story for another time. Harry is undoubtedly a very young wizard. What you've described could have easily been done by either of you. If you were excited and afraid, you could have unknowingly reacted and given Dudley a shove. The same could be said for little Harry, and it's more likely that the reaction was his, his fear would have been much greater than yours." At this her face darkened. Julia was so full of questions, she didn't know where to begin. She sensibly kept quiet, letting Mrs. Grigsby tell the story in her own way. "It's no accident that I came to you, Julia," she went on. "Arabella sensed something special about you and suggested to Albus Dumbledore that under the circumstances, a witch would probably be the best guardian for you." Julia blinked, as if the lights had brightened suddenly; "Arabella who? And who is Albus Dum…Dumble-what's-his-name?" Delia Grigsby laughed and rose from her chair. She poured two glasses of lemonade and placed some cookies (" _Biscuits"_ Julia corrected herself) on a plate. "Arabella Figg child, and Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster at Hogwart's School, which trains young witches and wizards in all sorts of magic. That's where I went to school, once I turned 11." "Wait," Julia sputtered, "Mrs. Figg is a _witch?_ " She felt stupid and slow suddenly. It seemed that everything she knew, had intuited, or thought she knew was at best, only half the story. Delia sighed; there was so much to explain. "Julia", she began, "for some reason your parents chose to live as non-magical a life as they could. I'm sure they had their reasons: I know your dad lived through the horrors that eventually caused the death of little Harry's parents." She nodded her head in the direction of the Dursley's house across the street. "I knew your father years ago, before he moved to America and married your mother. That was during the time of a very bad, very dark wizard who gathered many followers. Although the wizard was himself a half-blood, he had a mania, a strong belief that wizarding blood should be kept pure. His father was a Muggle," at Julia's blank look she added: "a non-magical person, who abandoned his mother. He decided that he hated all Muggles and many, many non-magical people were killed during his time. Your father was part of a group of young people who placed protective charms over the houses of their Muggle neighbors and anyone else they could find." Julia sat quietly, trying mightily to comprehend what she had been told. "Did my dad fight in a war?" she asked quietly. "Not exactly," Delia explained, "however he did fight skirmishes here and there, and assisted unknown numbers of Muggles by keeping them safe from attacks. He caused enough chaos to the other side that he, and many others, had a price on their heads. The dark wizard wanted them stopped and authorized whatever means were necessary. That is when your father left England. He attended graduate school in America, met your mother on a dig, and the rest, as they say, is history." She looked intently at Julia to see how she was taking these revelations. Julia couldn't find the word to describe how she was feeling, but suddenly she was angry: "Why did they never tell me _any_ of this?" she cried finally. Betrayal, that's the word she had been searching for. "All these years, I thought there was something wrong with me, I had to keep secrets because I thought there was something _wrong_ with me." At this she burst into tears; as she was not a particularly weepy child this startled her for a moment. Delia Grigsby, however, was not the least bit surprised; she had been expecting something like this. She gathered Julia into her arms and rocked her, patting her back and letting her cry. When Julia's sobs had subsided to sniffles, she placed the girl back on her chair and wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth. "Julia," she said carefully, "your mum and dad love you. You know that right?" Julia nodded. "I don't know why they never told you any of this, truthfully, _they_ don't know why they never told you. They had intended to, but wanted to wait until you were older. And once you were clearly old enough to understand, they never found the right time or the right words. I insisted, however, that you absolutely had to know. Since they had left America, you would not be attending Ilvermorny." At that, Julia perked up. That word, why did she know that word? Seeing this, Delia explained: "Ilvermorny is a school in America, for young witches and wizards. It is located in the mountains in western New England, I can't remember where exactly. In any event, children like you are invited to attend after their eleventh birthday." Julia sighed; that wasn't about to happen now, and she felt a sadness. It would be nice to know people who wouldn't think she was weird, it would be nice to be able to share secrets with friends who would understand. Delia took Julia's hands in hers and smiled. "Ilvermorny isn't the only school of its kind in the world you know," she said, "America is much younger than England after all. Where do you think they got the idea of a school for magical children? We have one right here in Great Britain, and Albus Dumbledore is its headmaster, remember I mentioned it? And unless I am very much mistaken, you will receive an invitation to attend after you've turned eleven." "Hogwarts," Julia whispered. "Yes," replied Mrs. Grigsby, "Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore is aware of you of course, he doesn't miss much, if anything. Meanwhile it is my job to look after you and teach you a few things so that you will be prepared when your letter arrives." Julia suddenly, surprisingly, felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Without saying a word, she walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room, where she crawled onto her bed. She reached for Hunny, her stuffed rabbit that she'd had since forever, although he hadn't done anything except decorate her bed since her fifth birthday. But suddenly she needed nothing more complicated than that well-worn toy. Clutching him to her chest, she curled up on her side, and closed her eyes. She felt Mrs. Grigsby cover her with the afghan and that's the last thing she knew before she drifted off to sleep.

 **Chapter 3**

When Julia awoke it was still light outside and she understood dimly that she hadn't slept long. Still she felt calm and revived; her parents were unusual, she had always understood that, and now understood it better than ever. Her child's mind made very simple work of the situation: it was what it was, it wouldn't change. Her dad and mom loved her, and were preoccupied and single minded. All those things were true. "And he's a wizard and she's a witch," she whispered softly, just to see what would happen when she said it out loud. Nothing did and although she didn't know what she had been expecting, Julia was encouraged and took this as a good sign.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Grigsby was starting dinner. Her guardian looked at her quickly, and seeming satisfied with what she saw, turned back to the vegetables she was preparing for a salad. She said to Julia over her shoulder, "I understand this has been a lot to take in. I think that for now, I won't tell you anymore," and seeing Julia's look of alarm, added: "I will, however, answer any questions you have. Ask me whatever you'd like, anything at all." Julia considered this; there was so much she wanted to know, what would she ask first? And was surprised, of all the first questions she might have asked, to hear herself say: "Mrs. Figg is a witch too?" Mrs. Grigsby, finished with the salad, wiped her hands on a towel and replied: "No, Arabella, unfortunately, is a Squib."  
"What's a Squib?" Julia didn't like the sound of the word, it sounded like an insult.

"A Squib is a non-magical person," Mrs. Grigsby said. "But," Julia frowned slightly, "you said that a Muggle was a non-magical person." Delia smiled. "A Muggle is a non-magical person born into a non-magical family," she explained, "A Squib is a non-magical person born into a _magical_ family. See the difference?" Julia did immediately. "So Mrs. Figg's whole family was magical and she isn't? She must feel so left out. That's why she always looks a little sad." Delia nodded, "That's very true. Arabella Figg might be a bit… _different_ , but she has a good heart and she's a good friend." Julia considered her next question. "Tell me about Harry," she said. Delia sighed; she wasn't sure where to begin. Finally she said: "Harry's mum and dad were James and Lily Potter. They were part of an organization that openly fought the dark wizard and his allies." Julia interrupted her: "What's the dark wizard's name?" It occurred to her that her guardian had never referred to him as anything other than "the dark wizard", which, upon consideration, Julia found odd. Delia drew herself up and replied: "I will not speak his name. His given name was Tom Riddle however I will not speak the name he gave himself when he came into power. And," she looked at Julia a little sternly before continuing, "neither will anyone else. We call him "He Who Must Not Be Named", or simply the dark wizard. His followers called him "The Dark Lord." Julia was mystified, however nodded her head in agreement. Satisfied, Delia continued: "There are many rumors regarding his reasons, and I am unsure of the truth, however the dark wizard was determined that Harry Potter, who was just a baby at the time, posed a threat to him. This information was immediately shared with James and Lily and they went into hiding with baby Harry. Unfortunately, their hiding place was betrayed," here her face darkened ominously and Julia had a glimpse of a handsome, dark haired man before it was gone. That, she supposed, must have been the man who betrayed Harry's parents, and she felt a sudden loathing. She couldn't dwell on that however, as Mrs. Grigsby was continuing her story: "The dark wizard found the family and murdered James and Lily, and he tried to kill Harry. And this is something you have to understand: he used one of what we call the Unforgivable Curses, a killing curse, and it has never been known to fail. It was 100% fatal, until the dark wizard tried it on Harry. No one knows exactly why, but it didn't kill Harry. He has a scar, I'm told, on his forehead, but he survived otherwise intact, with no real harm done. The dark wizard, however, disappeared and hasn't been seen in almost three years. Most are happy, believing him to be gone for good." Mrs. Grigsby folded and refolded a napkin nervously before she continued: "I don't believe that however, and neither does Albus Dumbledore. So we remain vigilant." Julia silently considered all she had been told, before she finally asked: "So Harry went to with the Dursleys? He is Dudley's cousin, Mrs. Dursley told me that, so she is his aunt?" Again, at the mention of the Dursleys, Delia Grigsby's face darkened. "Petunia Dursley is…was Lily Potter's sister. There is old magic that makes that home the safest place for Harry to be. Many fine wizarding families offered to take him in and raise him after…after James and Lily were killed," she paused and cleared her throat. Julia felt her sadness and so was saddened as well. After a minute Mrs. Grigsby continued: "Albus Dumbledore has always maintained, and still maintains, as far as I know, that Harry must remain at the Dursleys for his safety. I hate to criticize Dumbledore however…" she paused and looked hard at Julia. "Before I continue," she said, "I need to stress, again, that you cannot, absolutely _cannot_ repeat this to anyone, Harry doesn't know and for the time being it must remain that way. You may discuss it with your parents when they're home but nobody else. Understood?" Julia nodded, wide eyed. This was serious: even without her intuitive abilities she would have known that. Satisfied, Mrs. Grigsby continued: "The Dursleys don't want Harry. I don't know why, I don't know if the sisters had a falling out or if Petunia and Vincent…I think his name is Vincent…are just horrible people. In any event the situation is less than ideal, to my mind, for a small child." She paused and looked at Julia; it was her turn to ask a question. "You've seen Harry. What do _you_ think?" Julia chose her words carefully; she had been raised to respect adults and wasn't sure how honest she should be. Finally throwing caution to the wind, and sensing a kindred spirit at least where the Dursleys were concerned, she blurted: "I think you're right, I think they're horrible people. I've seen the boys outside when Mr. Dursley comes home from work. He pats Dudley on the head – because he can't pick him up anymore, Dudley is too fat, chucks him under the chin and makes a fuss over him. He ignores Harry, poor Harry just stands there looking on and he's ignored. Mrs. Dursley was convinced Harry had done something that day when Dudley fell…" Here she stopped, realization dawning on her. "Mrs. G.," she said, "Mrs. Dursley knows Harry is magical, he might not know but _she_ does. At the time I didn't understand how she could possibly think a boy so much littler than Dudley could have pushed him down, but now it makes sense. She knows he's magical. And," she added with conviction, "she's jealous. Jealous and afraid. That's why Harry never has new clothes and looks like nobody cares about him. Because nobody does." Julia was certain she was going to start crying again, so distressed was she over the little boy with the bright green eyes. Delia placed her hand on Julia's and said softly, "A great many people care about Harry Julia, you are obviously one of them. But we need to be careful about how we show that we care. Perhaps we can take care of Harry occasionally when the Dursleys go out. Arabella says they don't often take him with them on outings. He might come here, I'll offer it to Mrs. Dursley ever so casually. But we can't be too kind or they'll get suspicious. We'd never be allowed to see him if they thought he actually _enjoyed_ coming here." Julia brightened; she had occasionally longed for a brother or sister and she could pretend that Harry was her little brother. His hair was black like hers, they could pass as siblings she supposed. Feeling better about Harry, she found another topic of conversation. "Tell me about Hogwarts," she asked. And for the next two hours, while they ate dinner and cleaned up after, Mrs. Grigsby told Julia all about the school, in a castle way up north, how it was founded by four of the greatest magical people ever: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. She explained how each founder had a house named for them, and how new students were sorted into their proper house with the aid of an ancient sorting hat. She proudly informed her charge that she had been sorted into Gryffindor and went on to say that Julia's father David had been sorted into Hufflepuff. She briefly gave a description of the character traits of each founder: brave and daring Gryffindor, loyal and hardworking Hufflepuff, wise and witty Ravenclaw and cunning and ambitious Slytherin. "Where will I be placed?" Julia asked eagerly. "It's hard to say," Delia Grigsby replied, "I believe you are brave and loyal and extremely intelligent. So probably anything but Slytherin. Be assured however, that wherever the hat places you, that is where you belong. The hat is never wrong." Julia mulled this over for a bit. "Is Hogwarts a safe place?" she asked finally. "Probably the safest place in all of England," Delia replied, with a touch of pride in her voice, "Albus Dumbledore is an extremely talented wizard and has placed extra charms and protective spells on the castle and grounds." As her guardian spoke, Julia caught a glimpse of an elderly man, with long white hair, a long white beard and small eyeglasses that reminded Julia of half-moons. She couldn't make out any other distinguishing features before the vision was gone. "Will I meet any other magical families? Before I'm invited… _if_ I am invited to go to Hogwarts?" Julia was so enthralled with the idea of this magical school that she was afraid she would jinx her chances of actually attending if she acted too sure of herself. Understanding, Delia smiled and pulled her close. "You'll be invited," she reassured her young charge. "How can you be certain?" Julia felt far less certain, despite everything she had learned. From the pocket of her apron, Delia pulled out a long thin piece of wood; Julia sputtered in amazement: "Is that a…a _WAND?_ "  
"It is indeed," Delia replied, "ten and a half inches, cherry wood with a unicorn hair core. I've had it since I was eleven years old, purchased at Ollivander's store in Diagon Alley." Julia tried mightily to process this amazing information; the use of the words "wand" and "unicorn hair" in the same sentence rendered her speechless. At least she understood "cherry wood". Smiling understandably, Delia explained: "Ollivander's is a wand store, Mr. Ollivander has been making wands for witches and wizards for years and years. Most of your classmates will have a wand that Mr. Ollivander made. Mr. Ollivander is fond of saying "the wand chooses the wizard", or in our case, the "witch". It is true of me and everyone I know. When you come across the wand meant for you, you will know." She extended the wand slightly and did a funny little movement with her wrist, sort of, Julia thought, like a swish and flick. Delia whispered: "Wingardium leviosa," and the remote control for the television set floated into the air, rising about six inches above the coffee table, where it hovered, the wand pointed directly at it. Then with another little flick, it settled back onto the surface of the table. Handing the wand to Julia, Delia said, "You try it: say "wingardium leviosa" and use the same wrist motion I did." Julia took the wand, half expecting to feel it vibrate in her hand, and half afraid she'd be turned into a frog or something. Neither of those things happened. The wand felt smooth and cool to the touch. Pointing it at the remote control, and copying the wrist motion as best she could, she whispered the incantation. The remote rocked to one side then remained still. "Very good!" Delia cried, "that's actually very good for a first time." Julia was encouraged and tried again. Finally, on her fourth try, she successfully lifted one end of the remote two inches off the table.


	2. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Julia hadn't thought she would be able to fall asleep: so much had happened and she assumed she would be far too excited to do anything as ordinary as sleep. She did sleep though, soundly and deeply, and awoke the following morning to weak sunlight peeking through the ruffled curtains and the sounds of birds in the tree outside her window. It was peaceful and Julia lay quietly, until a sudden memory came back to her. "A wand!" she remembered excitedly, "Mrs. G has got a wand!" Tossing back her sheet and not even bothering to dress, Julia ran down the stairs and turned down the hall into the kitchen. She didn't see her guardian, however she did smell coffee brewing and heard quiet sounds coming from the back door which she realized was open slightly. Delia was kneeling on the mat at the back stoop, scooping tuna fish from a tin into a small saucer. Waiting expectantly was a small cat, a handsome tabby, silvery gray with black stripes. Like most tabbies, he had a distinctive M on his forehead. He gave Julia only the most cursory of glances, intent upon what appeared to be his breakfast. "Is he your cat Mrs. G?" she asked. She knew from reading that many witches had cats as a familiar, although she wasn't exactly clear what they were familiar with. Delia smiled and rising from the mat, said "No, he's a stray I'm guessing. He's small, looks underfed and was pretty skittish when I opened the door." Careful not to startle the cat, who was indeed eating as if it had been a very long time since he'd last had a meal, Julia crouched down to watch him. Looking up she asked "Can we keep him? If he stays around?" Delia nodded, "If he stays around, we can consider keeping him. I will ask Arabella if he's one of hers, no doubt she'll not mind if we adopt him. Now come in and let's have breakfast."

Over breakfast Julia asked more questions about Hogwarts and began to feel a nagging worry over what sounded like a castle of immense size. Seeing concern on her young charge's face, Delia paused. "What is it Julia?" she asked gently. Swallowing past an unimaginably large lump in her throat, Julia whispered: "Has anyone ever gotten lost in the castle Mrs. G? Seriously lost?" Trying to hide her smile, Delia reassured the young girl. "Loads of people have gotten lost, Julia, myself included. But never seriously lost." She decided to keep the facts about some of the more unusual aspects of the school – the moving staircases for example – to herself for the time being. No sense in causing a panic. Knowing that Mrs. G was telling the truth – at least _part_ of the truth – Julia felt better. Remembering the conversation before bed the night before, she asked about Diagon Alley. "It is in London, Julia, just off Charring Cross Road, and it is incredibly old. It is hidden from Muggles, hidden in plain sight they say. It contains shops which sell anything a witch or wizard might need or want. You will buy your school robes there, and all your supplies as well."

For the next half hour Delia entertained Julia with stories about buying her schoolbooks at Flourish and Blotts bookstore, robes at Madam Malkin's and ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "Will we go there today?" Julia asked. Delia smiled at the eagerness. "Not today," she replied, "it might be sunny now, however I heard the forecast and it is supposed to cloud over and rain later this morning. I thought today we might bake some cookies and talk. You have a lot of catching up to do you know." Julia nodded. None of the many books she had read had prepared her for what she had learned in the past twenty-four hours. When she considered how much a child born into a magical world already knew at age ten, she was embarrassed and a bit anxious, even though she knew that logically she was not to blame. "Must remember to have a long talk with Mom and Dad when they return," she resolved. Although she thought she had come to terms with it, Julia found herself troubled, again, at her parent's decision to hide their magical abilities from their daughter.

"What do most magical children know by this time?" she asked Mrs. Grigsby. Delia was gentle in her response, as she understood perfectly the anxious place from which the question sprang. "Not as much as you'd think," she began, "I don't want you to worry. There is a law that prevents under age witches and wizards from overtly using magic. Naturally, especially in a small child, little bursts of magical energy will occur. The parents are expected to instruct the child in appropriate use. The Ministry can detect when magic is used, however not by whom it is used. So, in a magical family, a child may be taught a few simple spells, using a parent's wand, for example. The ministry would have no way of knowing whether the spell originated with an adult, legally of age to perform magic, or from a child." She settled into a chair at the table and took one of Julia's hands in hers.

"So," Julia said thoughtfully, "no one will know who was trying to move the television remote last night, just that someone was moving it?" Delia laughed, "It's not even that specific," she said, "some big spells or incantations are identifiable, however levitating a small object, or moving it across the room even, are only revealed as simple magic. And since the Ministry is aware that I am here, they will assume that I am performing the magic."  
"Ministry?" Julia asked, "what's that?"

"The Ministry is the magical world's form of government, they are called 'The Ministry of Magic'. We have a Mini _ster_ of Magic, like the Muggle Prime Minister. Or the American President I suppose."

"Are there magical police?" Julia inquired. "There is a Magical Law Enforcement Squad," Delia replied, "which is a fancy name for magical police." She smiled down at Julia. Julia spent a few minutes processing the fact that there was an entire world, parallel to the one she'd known for ten years. Delia waited patiently for the next set of questions.

"Will I meet more magical people?" Julia finally asked, "Before I go to Hogwarts school I mean?" It had occurred to her that magical children celebrated birthdays just like everyone else, except that she guessed they probably invited children from other magical families to their party. She supposed, somewhat unhappily, that witches her age probably knew hundreds of other witches, and truth be told, she had begun to feel a bit lonely. The day Mrs. Grigsby arrived for the first time, before all the excitement with Harry and Dudley, Julia had gone outside with her jump rope in hopes of seeing another girl around her age. True she had wanted the first glimpse of the woman who would potentially be her new guardian, however in the back of her mind was the desire to meet another girl. Even with all the wonderful – if somewhat startling – revelations of the past twenty-four hours, Julia would have liked a friend to share this with – a magical friend of course. But even a non-magical friend would be nice to share normal stuff with. Delia deduced most of this and made a decision on the spot.  
"You will meet magical people Julia. Perhaps tomorrow? I know of a family with a girl a bit older than you, the Tonks. Their daughter Nymphadora will be attending Hogwarts this fall, so she's a year older than you, or close to it anyway." A giggle escaped Julia: "Nympha – who?" she sputtered.  
"Get it out of your system now," Delia cautioned. "First, it's never polite to laugh at someone else's name. Second, she hates it. She prefers to go by her last name: Tonks. Although I've heard her father call her 'Dora' and live to tell the tale. You might someday manage to get away with that." Julia nodded; she had undergone a certain amount of teasing because her last name was Thorne. For some reason, people – mostly boys – thought it was amusing to tell her that her name ought to have been "Rose". They each said it as if it were the funniest, most original thing they'd ever heard. "I'm sorry," she replied contritely, "I shouldn't have laughed, I think I was just so…surprised is all. It _is_ a very unusual name…" Delia patted her on the arm, "That it is," she answered, "and truth be told, I honestly don't know what Andromeda was thinking. However, that is strictly between us." Julia nodded her understanding and agreement.

"I think you'll like Tonks," Delia said, "she's a talented young witch and what's more, she's a Metamorphmagus" - and anticipating the questions that she knew must be coming, she continued, raising her voice very slightly – "which means she can change her appearance at will. She can look like whomever she wants, can change the color of her hair, can change the shape of her nose – I saw her do a duck's bill once. It's a very rare and amazing talent really. One is born with it, so it's passed down, like hair or eye color, however since neither of her parents possess this talent, no one knows from whom she might have inherited it. She looks like a very ordinary young girl, except that the last time I saw her, her hair was a bright shade of Kelly green." Julia was amazed, Kelly green hair! At will from the sounds of it. What fun! "Can she change other people's looks too?" she inquired eagerly. Delia laughed. "No," she replied, "thank goodness, she's a bit mischievous. I can't imagine what she'd do if her mum forced her to eat Brussel sprouts." The woman and small girl laughed considering all the possibilities. "That's a very cool talent," Julia agreed, somewhat wistfully. "Now listen hear, Miss Thorne," Delia began, pretending a sternness that was contradicted by her affectionate smile, "you have a fairly amazing talent yourself, and the fact that you've learned to control it as well as you have, all on your own, tells me that you are a very gifted young witch." Feeling better, Julia asked: "Does my talent have a name?" Delia rose to pour more coffee; "Indeed it does," she replied, "it is called Legilimency, and people who have the ability to interpret thoughts from the minds of other people are referred to as Legilimens. The ability to block others from seeing your thoughts or memories, or for keeping unwanted thoughts out, is called Occlumency, and you possess that rare talent as well. I refer to it as "rare" because, while both skills may be taught, to varying degrees of success, it is highly unusual for one to be born with the talents. As far as we have been able to determine, you have never been taught these skills, therefore we, Dumbledore, your parents and I, have concluded that you are among the rare few who were born with them." She looked with pride at Julia, who for the first time in her life, began to realize that her abilities, which had always been a part of her, were considered uncommon in the magical world. She smiled with delight. She had been born with a rare talent, much like a six-year-old who could sing opera. She felt inordinately pleased with herself, even as a small voice in the back of her brain reminded her that it was pure luck, nothing more. Looking at Mrs. Grigsby, Julia began to wonder if that small voice didn't sound familiar…

"You have every reason to be pleased, Julia," Mrs. Grigsby agreed, "however it will do you well to remember that yours is a talent that might easily be abused. I believe you to be a trustworthy young person, who behaves with integrity. Remember that, if you are ever tempted to peek into someone else's thoughts." Delia, herself skilled in Occlumency, hid the certain dark wizard that came to mind as she spoke her warning to Julia, the dark wizard who skillfully probed the minds of his followers and foes alike, in search of memories, ideas and fears which he might then use to gain an advantage over them. Julia, while not being able to fully understand the person behind the warning, understood enough to feel a sudden chill and understood this was a very serious matter. She promised, in a whisper, to respect the privacy of others. Delia took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She really hadn't meant to frighten the child. "Good," she said, "that's the last I'll say on the subject. Now, miss, why don't you go upstairs and dress and we'll decide how to spend this rather dreary day?"


	3. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Delia and Julia spent the day baking and tidying the house. Delia taught Julia simple spells for stirring batter and dusting furniture and Julia delighted in these new skills. Delia, for her part, couldn't remember the last time she had had this much fun. The last family with whom she had been employed had been a very old magical family and as the children came along and displayed magical abilities, it was accepted as a matter of course. She had had no experience dealing with Muggle born witches or wizards, whose abilities must have concerned their parents before they learned that their offspring were perfectly normal. Julia wasn't Muggle born, however all this was new to her, and Delia took pleasure in introducing the girl to the world into which she had been born. Delia thought she understood why David and Angela had chosen to keep this secret for so long from their only child, not that she agreed, mind you. David had suffered painful losses before he finally left England for America, and his desire to not have to relive that difficult time was understandable. Still, Delia was glad that circumstances had brought the Thorne family back to England, and she was happier than she'd been in many years attending to the needs of her new charge.

Shortly after lunch she sent a note, by owl post, to Andromeda Tonks asking if they could visit the following afternoon, explaining briefly the desire to introduce Julia to some children around her age, and by mid-day had received a response that they were very welcome to come for tea. She told Julia immediately of their plans, knowing that if she waited until after dinner, the child wouldn't sleep a wink. During dinner Julia peppered Delia with questions, about the Tonks family in particular, and magical children in general. Delia explained about tiny child-sized brooms that could really fly, if only two to three feet off the ground, and gobstones, a game that resembled marbles "Except," Delia explained, "when you lose a point you get squirted with this awful smelling stuff." Julia wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue to demonstrate her opinion of this game. Delia laughed, "I don't blame you," she said, "it's highly competitive but it can be very challenging."

"Do girls play with dolls at all?" Julia asked. At ten she had not yet outgrown her baby dolls, although she had only three highly favored infants. She also had an assortment of fashion dolls, including clothing and tiny shoes. "Indeed they do," Delia reassured her, "girls will always play with dolls. Although Tonks is far too active to sit still long enough. But you'll meet other girls this year who will be quite happy to play quietly with dolls." Julia was happy to hear this – she was more concerned with how well she'd fit in than she cared to admit. She didn't mind playing outdoors at all and could climb trees with the best of them. However, she did enjoy her down time, playing indoors, quietly organizing her "family". Delia spent the rest of the evening answering questions and setting Julia's mind at ease.

The following morning Julia spent a great deal of time reviewing her wardrobe, unsure of how to dress. She knew from her books that being invited to tea was a big deal and she didn't want to dress inappropriately. Finally, completely unsure of what was expected, she went downstairs, still in her pajamas, to inquire of her guardian. She found Delia, once again, feeding the small silvery striped cat at the back door. This morning he was receiving a tin of sardines. "Must remember to buy cat food, "Delia mumbled, "this could get very expensive otherwise." She glanced over her shoulder at Julia: "I've sliced some fresh fruit and there's buttered toast on the table." Julia settled with toast and a mix of sliced oranges and kiwi. After munching quietly for a few minutes, she finally asked: "Mrs. G., I don't know what to wear for tea this afternoon. I've narrowed it down to my purple dress or my green dress, but I don't know if either of them are fancy enough for tea." Delia hid her smile; "the child must think she's having tea with the queen," she thought. Turning to Julia from the sink, where she was washing her hands, she replied kindly, "You should wear what you wear when you and I have tea Julia. This is a family tea, thank heavens, not a high tea where proper dress is required." Julia sighed in relief. "In fact," Delia continued, "wear jeans and trainers, as it is likely you and Tonks will be playing outside." As Julia's brain was still operating on American English, she had to mentally translate "trainers" into sneakers. Shaking her head slightly, she wondered when she'd automatically understand _British_ English.

After breakfast, Julia helped Mrs. Grigsby pack a basket with several of the small cakes and cookies they had baked the day before. "Never go to anyone's house empty handed Julia," Delia said, "at the very least, one should always ask what one might bring." Julia nodded and replied: "Mrs. Compton always said that too." Julia felt herself bristle a bit, it wasn't as if she hadn't been raised with any manners at all! Delia placed a comforting hand on Julia's shoulder: "Of course she would have taught you that. Mrs. Compton and your parents have taught you very nice manners Julia." Mollified, Julia went upstairs to make her bed and get dressed. "Julia," Delia called up the stairs, "let's dash to the market to pick up a few tins of cat food, shall we?"

Excited at the prospect that they would be keeping the cat, Julia ran a brush through her long hair and pulled it back into a clip. She ran down the stairs and through the kitchen to the back door. The cat, satisfied with his breakfast, was sunning himself on the back step.

"He needs a name," Julia decided. "Well of course," Delia agreed, "what would you call him?" Julia studied the silvery, striped face looking up at her. "He has an 'M' on his forehead," she stated, "so I think Merlin suits him well." The cat, as if immensely bored with the naming process, yawned and putting his head down on his paws, closed his eyes. "Merlin it is," Delia said, laughing.

Walking to and from the market, and the thorough studying and comparing of the various tins of cat food took an hour. While walking home, Julia thought of another question to ask of her guardian: "Where do the Tonks live?" Startled, Delia couldn't answer right away. "Well," she began, "I don't really know the actual address." Seeing Julia's confused and somewhat concerned expression, Delia hastened to add: "You see we don't generally travel like everyone else. Indeed, I am the only witch I know who has a Muggle license to drive a car. I'm quite certain other wizards and witches know how to operate an automobile, however I am not aware of them personally. I use the car only to keep up appearances, when other means of transport might look suspicious."

"Other means of transport?" Julia asked, as, completely unbidden, the image of a broom came to mind. Delia laughed: "Yes," she said, "we do use brooms, however you are not of age, so we won't be flying anywhere soon. Generally, other than brooms, we use two methods of transport: apparition, and side-along apparition when there are underage witches or wizards to transport, and Floo powder. Personally, I am not a fan of apparition, it's very fast, but can be a rather…uncomfortable feeling. I'm far more comfortable, especially with you in tow, of Floo powder." Feeling completely overwhelmed, Julia was at a loss for words. As they had reached the Thorne house, Delia halted further explanation until they were inside. "Floo powder," she said, "is a powdery substance; you take a pinch of it, step into the fireplace, state your destination clearly and firmly, drop the powder and off you go. Apparition is a bit trickier, although as I said, it is faster. You will learn how to apparate as a student at Hogwarts, however not until your sixth year. I think it's your sixth year…" Julia, dark blue eyes wide, said, "Off I go? Clearly and firmly? What happens if I mumble? Where will I go?"  
"Oh dear," Delia sighed, "come sit down here a minute, there's no need to panic." For the next several minutes she slowly and carefully explained the Floo network and how it operated: "The network is controlled by the ministry, and the fireplaces of magical families are all connected. You don't need a specific address, it's not like a Muggle posting a letter. All we'll need to say is: "Tonks house!" That's all you need, and you'll arrive there safely. All you have to do is remember to keep your elbows tucked in so they don't get banged as you pass other fireplaces, and keep your eyes closed to prevent soot from getting into them. Oh and I think it might be best if you go ahead of me, so once you've arrived, step out of the fireplace because I will be right behind you." Julia sat very quietly, absorbing what she had been told, while Delia watched her carefully. Granted this wasn't an ideal situation: usually there was a parent at either end, however it was not an impossible situation. Julia was a bright girl and once she got used to the idea and was reassured that Andromeda would be watching for her on the other end, she'd be fine, Delia was certain of it. "What does it feel like?" Julia finally asked, "Will I feel as if I'm moving?" Delia nodded, "Yes," she answered calmly, "you'll feel like you're spinning, and you will hear a sound in your ears, I've never thought it particularly loud although that seems to vary from person to person. It goes by quickly however, and before you know it, you will have arrived, and Andromeda will help you out. It really is quite safe Julia, it is the preferred method of travel for underage witches and wizards, and I will be right behind you." Julia nodded. No sense in being a baby about it; she trusted Mrs. Grigsby. She couldn't imagine what it would be like, despite the descriptions given, but she was confident that it would go exactly as Mrs. G. had described.

She hoped.


	4. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The hour had finally come: Mrs. Grigsby had finished packing the basket with small cakes and other treats, Julia was dressed in a clean pair of jeans, her hair was brushed and she had clipped it back with a decorative barrette. She joined Mrs. Grigsby at the fireplace and noticed that her guardian was holding a small decorative box that usually sat at the corner of the mantlepiece. "This is the floo powder Julia," Mrs. G. stated, somewhat needlessly, as Julia had accurately guessed the contents of the box. "Now remember," Mrs. G continued, "Take a pinch and throw it in the fireplace, you will notice a bright green flame, which will not burn you. Step into the flame and very clearly say 'Tonks house'." Julia swallowed hard and nodded. "I'll be right behind you, and Mrs. Tonks will meet you at the fireplace." Delia squeezed Julia's arm, "You'll be fine, honest." Julia nodded again, took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the fireplace. Sure enough, a tall green flame appeared and before she could talk herself out of it, Julia stepped right into the flame and yelled "TONKS HOUSE!" She remembered to tuck her elbows in but forgot to close her eyes at first and ended up with soot in her left eye. She was aware of a spinning sensation and a noise, like a fierce wind blowing, but from a distance. Suddenly the spinning stopped – so suddenly that Julia felt herself falling – but then a pair of gentle but firm hands had her by the shoulders, and opening her eyes (her right eye actually, as her left was still firmly shut against the piece of soot), Julia saw a pretty woman. "Brown hair – check. Brown eyes – check," she thought, relieved that she apparently found the right place. Mrs. Tonks pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it against Julia's left eye. "Soot?" she asked sympathetically, "Someone really ought to invent goggles that would prevent that. Now don't rub, you need to rinse it out." Behind her was a girl, about Julia's size, whose hair was a bright, bubble gum pink. Before Julia could speak, she was drawn forward, and feeling a breeze behind her, realized that Mrs. Grigsby had arrived, right behind her as promised. "I knew you could do it!" Delia exclaimed to Julia, patting her on the back. "Not too bad was it, eh?" Julia shook her head, "No, it was all so fast I really couldn't think about it," she replied. She stepped out of the way so Mrs. G. could step over the hearth. Delia and Mrs. Tonks hugged briefly: "Andromeda it is _so_ good to see you! Thank you for inviting us." Mrs. Tonks smiled warmly, "It is always a pleasure to see you Delia. And this must be Julia." Reaching out she clasped Julia's hand in hers and peering at her closely said to her: "You must favor your mother Julia, although your smile reminds me of your father." Without waiting for a response, she looked over her shoulder and motioned to the girl with the pink hair: "Nymphadora, come meet Julia." Wincing at the name (Julia was incredibly grateful to Mrs. Grigsby that she'd warned her to get the giggles out of her system), Nymphadora came forward. Before she could speak, Julia blurted, "Mrs. Grigsby said your hair was Kelly green, but I think the pink is so beautiful!" She had no time to be embarrassed, as this was exactly the right thing to say. Nymphadora linked her arm in Julia's and said, "I thought so too. This might be my favorite shade yet. Come on, I'll show you to the washroom, you need to rinse that stuff out of your eye, and you'll probably want to wash your hands." And realizing that she did feel a bit grimy, Julia allowed herself to be drawn through the room, leaving the two women to catch up on the latest gossip, and undoubtedly discuss the newest addition to their magical world.

"I can't believe you traveled by floo powder all by yourself, I _still_ haven't been allowed to do that," Julia's companion confided. Julia was surprised: imagine, this girl who had been born into magic, had known all her life that there was such a thing as magic, hadn't done something that Julia had managed on her own. It boosted her confidence in a way that nothing else could have done. "And," the girl continued, "please don't call me 'Nymphadora', please don't." Julia nodded, "I can call you Dora if you like. I'll call you whatever you want." She smiled at her new friend's reflection in the mirror over the sink. "Dora is okay, my dad calls me that, except when he's angry with me. Or Tonks, most people call me 'Tonks'. But mum is the only one to call me by my full name." Tonks frowned at this, then shrugged. Julia understood immediately that Tonks was acknowledging that she'd fought this fight before and lost. Drying her hands, Julia nodded sympathetically. " _My_ parents never told me I was a witch, can you believe it?" she confided. Tonks shook her head; "I don't understand that at all," she agreed. They smiled at each other in understanding: both had parents who behaved in unfathomable ways. "Come up to my room," Tonks invited Julia. They thundered up the stairs to a room whose floor space was spacious enough, but whose head space was limited by the slope of the ceiling. Posters of women on brooms were stuck to the sloping ceilings, and after blinking hard several times, Julia realized that the women really _were_ moving! She stared in amazement at the posters of women dressed in bright green robes, with a gold talon emblazoned on the chest of their uniforms, as they zipped back and forth across the poster. "The Holyhead Harpies," Tonks said, "my favorite Quidditch team. They're the reason I tried green hair for a while." Julia wasn't sure which question to ask first. Finally she admitted in a rush: "I don't know what quidditch is, I don't know any teams, and I _really_ didn't know posters could move." Tonks was momentarily startled, however she soon recovered. "Sit," she said, pointing to a large fluffy pillow on the floor. Julia sat and Tonks flopped onto a similar pillow and for the next half hour regaled her new friend on the finer points of quidditch in general, and the Holyhead Harpies in particular. "They are the only all-witch team in the league," she stated with pride. "they are the second oldest team in the league, and all their team member's names begin with a 'G'. Well, either their last name or first name starts with a 'G'. Which means I'll never play for them…" Tonks didn't look all that perturbed at the thought that her name, the bane of her existence, precluded her from playing quidditch professionally with her favorite team. "I'd love to see a match," Julia said enthusiastically. "Well you will at school," Tonks informed her, "each of the Houses at Hogwarts has their own team. So you'll see matches when you start school."

"Will you play for your house team?" Julia asked. Tonks laughed, "Not a chance," she said, "I'm dead clumsy, I trip over flat surfaces, which wouldn't be bad since Quidditch is played on brooms and I think I'll be a pretty good flyer. But I drop things too. I forget I'm holding them and wave my arms around or do something else dumb and drop whatever I'm holding, or break it, or something. I'm pretty much a disaster. Mum only lets me set the table with stuff that won't break or burn me or slice off a thumb." Julia laughed at Tonks description of her shortcomings. "Will you be going to Hogwarts next year?" she asked. Tonks shook her head and bounced a little on her pillow seat: "I got my letter, Mum is taking me to Diagon Alley for my school stuff pretty soon." In spite of herself, Julia felt a hard flash of jealousy mixed with a healthy dose of disappointment. "Oh," she said in a husky voice, "I thought we were the same age. I won't go until next year." Tonks, in complete understanding, reached out and squeezed Julia's hand. "I know how you feel," she commiserated, "my friend Bill Weasley started last year and I couldn't stand it. I actually tried to find a spell that would make me really small so I could hop in his trunk." In spite of her misery, Julia laughed at the image. "My birthday is in April," Tonks said, "so I've had to wait since then. I think you ought to be able to go to Hogwarts the minute you turn eleven."  
"April?" Julia asked, "My birthday is April 15th! When is yours?"  
"April 21st," was the reply. "A year and a week," Julia said, oddly pleased with this coincidence. "Mrs. G. has mentioned the Weasleys before," she said, remembering Tonks reference to her friend, "are you all good friends?" Tonks nodded, "They are really, really lots of fun. They live in the coolest house, they call it The Burrow. It's very tall, and a little bit crooked, and it's stuffed full of people." Julia understood that like her, Tonks was an only child and was intrigued by the idea of siblings. "Seven children?" she asked, "I think that's what Mrs. G. said…" Tonks nodded, "Seven and until baby Ginny was born, they were all boys! Can you imagine that?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued: "Bill is the oldest, he's a year older than me. Then Charlie, he turned eleven in December: rotten luck, that was, he's had to wait practically a whole year for _his_ Hogwarts letter. Then Percy is about eight, he's not much fun, he's always tattling. Then there are twins, Fred and George, they're about six, they're always getting into trouble, and I can't ever tell them apart. Ron is four and doesn't have much to say, but who could with all those older brothers around all the time? And then the baby is three, Ginny. Although she's not technically a baby anymore."  
"Wow," was all Julia could say. "Oh," Tonks continued, "I forgot to tell you: they've all got _red hair_. All of them, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." Julia was saved from responding – not that she could think of a single appropriate response to that remarkable revelation – by Mrs. Tonks calling to them up the stairs. It was time to eat.

At the table Tonks kept Julia entertained by changing her hair color, and once she made her nose grow, "Like the story of Pinocchio whose nose grew when he lied," Julia giggled. Tonks laughed with her and even the older women smiled. "I don't know that story, " Tonks said, "but it's a funny name and you can tell me later." Glancing at Mrs. Tonks, who was watching the girls affectionately, Julia thought, "She's happy Tonks has a friend who is a girl." She wasn't sure why this should be important to Tonk's mother, however it was clear, to Julia anyway, that it was.

After tea, Tonks invited Julia outside. Stopping by the back door, she retrieved a battered broom out of the corner. "It's dad's old one," she explained, and feeling a thrill, Julia realized that this was a _flying_ broom. Once outside, Tonks explained: "You mount the broom, and kick off only a little – too much and you'll go too high. I can't go any higher than the lilac bushes" and with a wave of her hand, she indicated a row of shrubbery between five and six feet tall. "Mom will kill me if I go any higher and dad agrees. Dad is usually more agreeable about things but…" and her voice trailed off, indicating her lack of understanding at the betrayal of what Julia assumed was an otherwise indulgent father. Tonks mounted the broom and kicked off gently, rising to about four feet. She leaned forward and the broom shot away from where Julia was standing. Gasping, she watched Tonks circle the garden, paying close attention: sit up straighter and the broom slowed a bit, and finally, pulling up on the broom stopped it entirely. Hopping off, Tonks generously offered it to Julia. "Go ahead," she invited, "give it a go." Refusing to show her nervousness in front of her new friend, Julia mounted the broom and kicked off gently – so gently in fact that her feet barely cleared the ground. Tonks laughed, "Come on, you can do better than that," she said. Stretching her feet forward until her toes touched the grass, Julia kicked off again and rose another foot off the ground. "Good!" shouted Tonks, "now lean forward a bit." And doing so, Julia felt herself moving. "I'm flying!" she thought, "I'm actually flying!" And then crashed unceremoniously into the lilac bushes. Laughing, Tonks ran to assist. "That was really good," she assured Julia between giggles. "Seriously, a little bit of practice and we can get together with Bill and Charlie and play two on two quidditch!"

"I think I'm going to need a _whole lot_ more practice before that happens," Julia tried to smile. In truth she was horrified at the idea of trying to play quidditch, and the way she figured it, flying wasn't even half her problem. Tonks waved her hand, unconcerned with Julia's lack of enthusiasm, convinced as she was of the wealth of untapped talent in her new friend. The spent the next hour practicing flying around the garden, and while she didn't go very high (not even to the tops of the lilac bushes), Julia was encouraged that at least she didn't crash or get dumped off.

Finally Delia came to the door to call Julia in; it was time to go home. Julia and Tonks made a solemn promise to send notes back and forth via owls until the next time they'd see each other. Thanking Mrs. Tonks warmly for a lovely afternoon, Julia took a pinch of floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, and this time, stepping confidently inside, with a loud and clear voice, said "Home!" and was off with a whoosh.


End file.
